Family of Lies: Sebastian Read online

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  DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Family of Lies: Sebastian

  © 2015 Sam Argent.

  Cover Art

  © 2015 Anne Cain.

  [email protected]

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

  ISBN: 978-1-63216-680-7

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-681-4

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014920689

  First Edition March 2015

  Printed in the United States of America

  This paper meets the requirements of

  ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

  PROLOGUE

  “DO YOU want to play?”

  Sebastian looked at the wooden sword and the fool crown prince holding it. “You saw me sitting here with a book and decided that meant I want to play with you idiots?”

  “Yes,” Prince Turren said with the confidence of a boy who needed more whoopings.

  “Sebastian, stop acting like a shit and pretend to be a child for five minutes!” his good-for-nothing brother, Demetrius, shouted. Funny how he didn’t have time to watch them until the king paid a visit.

  Sebastian glanced at his two other brothers grinning with their own wooden swords and Father’s old cloaks tied around their necks. “I’ll pass.” He opened his book again and buried his face into tales about real heroes.

  The prince snatched the book and held it out of reach. “I order you to join us and take off your cloak. Then I’ll give it back to you.”

  Sebastian hopped off his stool. “So our next king is a robber. Sorry, but I don’t take the word of thieves. Hand it over.”

  Turren poked Sebastian in the chest with his wooden sword. “Show respect, knave. I will sit on the throne one day.”

  Sebastian sighed. “It didn’t take you long to bring your father into this.”

  “The king, to you.” Turren moved the end of his sword to the tip of Sebastian’s hood. “I will forgive your impudence if you lower it. Wearing it in my presence is offensive.”

  “Offensive, huh?” Sebastian grabbed the wooden blade and shoved as hard as he could, hitting the prince with the sword butt. He leaped for the book, but even with a bleeding nose, Turren kept it out of reach.

  “If you want the damn book, then here!” The book sailed through the air and into the fireplace. Unlit logs burst into blue flames, incinerating the book with unnatural speed.

  “Who said you brats can use magic?” Demetrius shouted.

  No. Sebastian took a step toward the fireplace, but it was no use. It was gone. As if he were five again, Sebastian heard his grandparents taking turns reading him each poem before bed. The exaggerated voices they used for each story and the grand gestures they made during each battle. Gone. And all because of a selfish, spoiled, rich prince who couldn’t take no for an answer.

  A tentative hand touched Sebastian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I lost my temper and—”

  Sebastian tackled him to the floor. “I don’t care, you bastard!” He slammed his fists onto the prince’s still-bleeding nose and beat the royal’s chest when the bastard covered his face.

  Demetrius leapt to his feet, looked at his enraged brother and then at the stairs leading to the second floor. “To hell with this. I’m not sticking around to be yelled at. Someone stop him if the prince falls unconscious.” He rolled his eyes at his younger brothers and ran up the stairs.

  “Sebastian!” his sister called out, but Sebastian didn’t stop. Arms lifted Sebastian into the air, but he still swung his fists as tears blinded him.

  “Easy now, boy,” a stern voice said near Sebastian’s ear.

  “Captain, I swear Sebastian never does anything like this.” Ophelia cradled Sebastian’s face under the hood. She repeated Sebastian’s name until his arms stopped moving.

  “It was mine,” Sebastian whispered.

  Ophelia’s sightless gaze went to the fireplace. “I know.”

  The prince sat up with blood and snot running down his face. “Pembrost, it was my fault. Please don’t punish him.”

  “That isn’t up to me, Your Highness. What started this row?”

  Before the prince could answer, the door leading to the sitting room opened, and Lord Orwell stepped out, laughing, with the king by his side.

  Sebastian shoved Captain Pembrost aside and bolted out of the house.

  LORD ORWELL stirred the ashes with a poker. “All kinds of useless books in this house, and you burned that one. Not any of these cheap mysteries”—he waved the poker at his bookshelf—“or romances and histories. You burned the most expensive one in the entire fucking lot. And now my boy is Gods know where since he treasured the damned thing more than breathing.”

  You’re only cursing at me because my father left. Turren glanced at Captain Pembrost, who had healed his nose and bruises because he thought the prince shouldn’t look as disgraceful as he behaved. “Maybe he’ll return when he’s hungry.”

  Lord Orwell snorted. “That stubborn brat won’t show up for at least a day.” He shook his head. “All that begging me not to sell the damn thing and it ended up destroyed. I expect ample payment because I will need good wine to drown out that boy’s whining.”

  “The king pays his debts,” the captain said. “And you will pay yours by helping to search if Sebastian doesn’t turn up by morning,” he told Turren.

  “Speaking of whiny sons, where is Demetrius?” Lord Orwell asked.

  Ophelia pointed at the ceiling. “I came downstairs when I heard him climb out the window.”

  “Should we search for him too if he doesn’t return?” Captain Pembrost asked.

  “Don’t waste the manpower.” Lord Orwell threw his poker on the floor. “He has perfected running away and is probably finding passage on a ship by now. At least Sebastian stays on our land.”

  “A great deal of the fault lies with our prince, but the way you give your children leeway, I do wonder if their behavior is rubbing off on him.”

  Lord Orwell crossed his arms. “My spawn aren’t perfect, but they aren’t shameful enough to burn knowledge. It’s regretful our prince has none of the king’s intelligence or the queen’s honor.”

  Turren lowered his head and closed his eyes. Mother will be disappointed in me when she learns what I’ve done.

  “That’s enough, my lord. Prince Turren will make this right, I swear it.”

  “The prince will prove his sincerity in the morning,” Lord Orwell promised.

  AS PREDICTED, Sebastian didn’t appear by morning, and Turren hoped
no misfortune had befallen the boy. If he fell into a ravine and had no one to call for help, it’s my fault. Several riders arrived from the castle and spread maps out between themselves.

  “We should have searched for him last night,” Captain Pembrost said as he adjusted his leather gloves.

  “By all means, search a magical forest at night where a small boy can easily hide. We need daylight on our side.” Lord Orwell tied his coat closed. “And I don’t want to be responsible for any of your soldiers being eaten.” Sighing, he placed his hand on his stomach. “I’m ravenous with worry and have been unable to eat a full meal.”

  Turren frowned. “I saw you eat three helpings of eggs this morning.”

  “My son’s disappearance has clearly addled you, because I only had two. Perhaps the boy should stay home with my daughter.”

  “I don’t need his memory, just his presence to make things right,” Captain Pembrost said.

  I am standing right here. “I’ll go with the captain because I know my duty and I am in the wrong.” Turren bowed, and the nod Lord Orwell gave him managed to be the correct height yet disdainful at the same time.

  “Search around the border where my land ends, and I’ll look closer to home in case my boy comes to his senses.”

  “Yes, Lord Orwell.” Captain Pembrost placed his hand on Turren’s shoulder. “Come, my prince.”

  So no one could accuse him of shirking his duty, Turren was the first person to mount his horse, and he waited impatiently for the royal guards to follow.

  “Our goal is to find the boy, and that won’t happen if we’re too eager and make mistakes. Please calm yourself,” Captain Pembrost advised.

  “I’m plenty calm.” Turren’s horse turned in a circle, and he had to guide the animal still again. “He always does that.”

  “Uh-huh.” Captain Pembrost raised his arm and pointed in the direction of Silver Forest. “Stay close and do not wander off. I mean to return with as many of you as I left with.” He moved forward and the search party followed.

  Turren obeyed the captain’s orders, but nothing around him looked different from any regular old forest. Trees, more trees, a deer stopping by a bush, a rabbit, and a bush scooping up the deer like a biscuit. Turren blinked and turned to look at the empty spot where leaves fluttered in the air.

  “Pay attention to what’s in front of you!” Captain Pembrost shouted, and Turren hurriedly faced forward.

  Gods, Sebastian ran into this place alone? Turren shivered. We will find him and bring him home safely. Vines slithered down the trees, and the horses stepped closer to each other. Pembrost removed a torch from his saddle, and red magelight flared to life on its end. He swept it from side to side and the vines retreated. What if Sebastian has been eaten? There are so many dangerous plants, and he’s just a child. I wouldn’t have been mean to him if I knew he would run away. I just wanted him to look at me. Turren scanned the ground and surrounding brush over and over again, hoping to spy the fabric of the boy’s cloak. Please be alive.

  SEBASTIAN TURNED the rabbit and added more salt. At least I had a few spices in my pockets. He held his small plate of greens under his main course and allowed the rabbit’s juice to fall on them. Juice would be nice, but I’m too lazy after hunting and skinning my food. A vine sneaked in from his side and touched the cooking meat. Sebastian smacked it. “Get your own dinner!” The vine poked Sebastian’s chest but he waved it away. “I saw you eat a bird earlier, so don’t pretend you’re hungry. Damn glutton,” he muttered. The vine drew away, but as Sebastian leaned forward to check the meat again, the vine slapped him across the back of the head and disappeared too quickly for Sebastian to hit it back. “You know what? I was going to give you the bones, but now I’m giving them to that pit catcher.” The trees rustled in response, and Sebastian stuck his tongue out. He reached inside his cloak pocket and closed his hands on nothing for the third time that day. Sebastian sighed. When am I going to remember that my book is gone because of that stupid prince?

  Instead of dwelling on the incident, Sebastian picked up the rabbit with tongs and set it on a bigger plate. It was kind of the royal guards to leave their supplies dangling so helpfully off an unattended horse. The meat fell off the bone, and Sebastian stuck a large chunk in his mouth. If I wasn’t here because of my idiot father inviting the king over with his spawn, this would be a lovely dinner. Sebastian ate until only scraps remained and sleep pulled at him. It had been a long ride to the lake, and the stress didn’t do him any favors. His eyes drifted shut. When Sebastian opened them again, his dish was scraped clean. He glared at the trees. “Glutton.”

  ALL OF them pulled as hard as they could, but the huge bloom refused to let the soldier go.

  Captain Pembrost was bent almost completely backward as he and the biggest in their search party yanked on the captured soldier’s feet. Inch by inch, the slime-covered human slid out of the bloom. “Don’t let up!” he shouted. With a loud pop, the freed soldier and his comrades fell to the ground. Captain Pembrost raised his sword and prodded the bloom until it folded in on itself into the harmless yellow ball it had appeared to be when they came across it.

  Sebastian is dead and it’s all my fault. One boy couldn’t make it through this terrain unscathed. I pushed him to run away, and Sebastian is dead. Turren rubbed his wet nose on his sleeve and avoided looking at the others. They probably know it’s my fault too. I don’t deserve to be ruler. I should go to prison for what I’ve done. We don’t have prisons for children, but Father should think of something. I will be brave and face my punishment. Maybe ten or fifteen years will be suitable.

  “Does anyone smell rabbit?”

  Turren blinked. “What?”

  Captain Pembrost sniffed the air. “I smell it too. I think we’re by Silver Lake. If I were scared, that would be a good spot to go.” He mounted his horse and shouted, “Everyone, back on your horses.”

  The goo-slicked soldier took two tries, but he climbed on his saddle.

  Pembrost nodded at the man and continued forward.

  Plant monsters don’t cook. With his hope renewed, Turren sped his horse on and caught up with Pembrost. The captain tried to wave him to the back, but Turren shook his head. “If he’s hurt or in danger, I will help him.”

  “Fine, but you will run if I order it.”

  No chance in hell. “Yes, Captain.” Pembrost can heal most wounds, but I don’t know about amputations. If Sebastian is missing any limbs, I’ll tell Father to give Sebastian enough money to live like a normal man.

  No more plants attacked them as they rode to the lake. Everything seemed as calm as when they’d first entered the forest, as if it was resting. The captain pulled back long branches barring their way and a clearing opened in front of them. Light sparkled off the palest lake Turren had ever seen. Its waters were almost white, and lying down on a bundle of bedsheets was Sebastian. He still wore his cloak, so Turren couldn’t tell if the boy was intact. The captain motioned for the others to stop while he progressed farther. Sebastian stirred and lifted his hands over his head in a long yawn.

  “What are you idiots doing here?”

  Turren’s jaw dropped. He’s safe. All that worrying and him gone for days and that’s the first thing out of his ungrateful mouth? He dismounted and stalked to Pembrost’s side. “We’re here because you foolishly ran away. You could have been killed! We could have been killed!”

  Sebastian sat up. “The latter is true, but the former is impossible because I’m an Orwell.” A vine similar to the ones that had tried numerous times to yank them off their horses slithered to Sebastian’s side, and he petted it like a dog. “You can return and tell my father I’m fine. I don’t know what possessed him to send you after me.” He lay back down and ignored them.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but you will come with us.”

  Sebastian looked at the captain and all the guards standing behind him. Then his gaze fell on Turren. Giving him the same disdainful look as Lord Orwell had, Sebasti
an stood up and brushed off his cloak. He dismantled his fire pit and gathered his things together.

  “Hey, those are my supplies!” the goo-covered soldier spoke up. “I thought my bag came undone.”

  “It did,” Sebastian said. “I found it on the ground, and since I didn’t know who it belonged to, I used it.”

  An itch developed behind Turren’s ear. “You’re lying. You stole it.”

  “His Highness shouldn’t go around making baseless accusations, especially when his morals are in question.” Sebastian walked to the soldier and gave him the bag.

  Turren stomped to Sebastian. “I have to take responsibility for my actions and so do you. You ran away and now you’re lying. And you called me a thief earlier when it’s obvious you’re the same.” He flicked the side of Sebastian’s hood. “What kind of honest person wears a hood even when there’s clear weather?” Sebastian said nothing. “I said, what kind of—” Turren grabbed for the hood. The hood shifted, and he caught a glimpse of light green eyes that gleamed like peridots. A palm slammed into his midsection. Falling to the ground, Turren gasped painfully for breath and waited for the captain to come to his defense. There was no movement. Fine, I will settle this on my own. Turren stood up slowly, and Sebastian’s hooded face followed his every move.

  “I don’t like to be touched by fools. Do it again, and I’ll put you back on the ground.”

  Weeks of playing at the Orwell house and he’s finally looking at me. I can do the honorable thing even if he doesn’t deserve it. Turren bowed. “I’m sorry. About losing my temper… and the book,” he murmured. “I can find another copy.”

  Sebastian laughed. “I won’t hold my breath. Not even your money could find another first edition of poems by Sigmuend Atraius. And in the unlikely occurrence that you could, please tell me how you can replace a book soaked in the scent of my grandmother’s perfume and grandfather’s tobacco? How can you replace a book read to me by two people who loved me better than my parents? Please explain how you can instill those memories into another book when both of them are dead.”